


Truth of Another Nature

by opalmatrix



Category: The Paladin - C. J. Cherryh
Genre: Dark Past, F/M, Legends, Married Couple, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: For Saukendar's "demon" wife, the past is all too often present.
Relationships: Saunkendar | Shoka/Taizu (The Paladin)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Truth of Another Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sprocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprocket/gifts).



> Dear recipient, you wanted Taizu: "not-a-demon Taizu," and how she dealt with being the "demon wife" of the hero. I couldn't put all the ideas I had in this one story, but I hope this comes close to what you wanted. Thank you for letting me write from one of my very favorite books. Beta by the indispensable and patient [**UrsulaKohl**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaKohl).
> 
> Theme: “History has its truth, and so has legend. Legendary truth is of another nature than historical truth. Legendary truth is invention whose result is reality." ― Victor Hugo, Ninety-Three

Spring had come to Chiyaden's southern lands, even though the towering peaks of the Nanshan were still cloaked white with snow. Down in the village of Mon, new vegetable shoots sprang up in orderly rows, and early flowers bloomed along paths. The weather up in Cloud Pass, above the river, was a week or two behind, but in the barracks courtyard of Yinchao Fortress, the afternoon air was mild enough that the warriors drilling there were working up a sweat.

"One - and two - and three," barked Captain Chun.

Taizu had learned, through the past autumn and whenever the winter days permitted, to watch the drills with critical eye. Observing others learning was a novel experience. Right now it was Jian, one of Master Shoka's veterans from the rebellion last year, and one of the four new recruits who went through the drill: cut, parry, cut, block, and back again. Jian towered over the new boy, who could not have been more than seventeen, and on the fifth exchange, young Tsen fumbled the parry. He might have lost an arm if the sword had been real.

"Hold!" shouted Saukendar, the Warden of the South, lord of this fortress, and _Shoka_ to his intimates.

The two mock-combatants froze in place. Master Shoka came over and lifted the boy's practice sword higher. Jian followed the movement, showing Tsen how the change in position directed the blade to the side. "Not easy, when your opponent is so much taller," said Shoka. "But that's the classic parry for the attack." He looked around. "Rest a minute, boy. Once you learn the drill, there are other defenses you could try. Taizu!"

There was a little murmuring, but only a little, and it was mostly from the new recruits. Taizu came forward, bowed, and faced off against Jian. It was still a novelty, practicing with someone other than Shoka, but she had drilled with Jian many times in the past half year.

"Full speed first," said their lord. "Give them a show: four exchanges. Then half speed, so they can see how it works. Hai!"

Jian leapt forward. Taizu backed away, her parry swift and sure. His third blow was the stroke from the drill. Instead of the classical block, she stepped off the line of attack and added her movement to the parry. Even though Jian was expecting it, Taizu could see that it still surprised him a little: he hadn't drilled this exchange hundreds of times before. For the sake of the exercise, he did not make much of an effort to recover, allowing himself to be pulled off balance slightly, so that she could easily press the attack. He parried, and they both stopped and bowed to each other and to Shoka.

It had better have been for the sake of the exercise that Jian had gone off balance, thought Taizu. It had better not have been because she was Lord Saukendar's wife.

"Good," said Shoka. "Now, slowly."

It was harder to do the exchanges slowly, but neither of them were novices; they managed. As they finished, Taizu could see Tsen's hands tensing and relaxing, as though he were already thinking of the movements for himself. "Ready to try it, eh, Tsen?" said Master Shoka. "Get back in there. Taizu, step out."

Jian and Taizu bowed to each other again, and Taizu sat down. Tsen did not quite handle the new parry, but he seemed to understand what he ought to do: time and practice would teach him.

The drills went on. Halfway through the afternoon, some sort of stir and bustle occurred near the main courtyard gate. Taizu kept her eyes on her opponent—they were doing line drills—and figured she'd find out later what was happening. She heard excitement but no fear or concern.

Not everyone was so disciplined. "Emon, Goro, if you find the main courtyard more interesting than the practice yard," said Shoka, his tone genial, "You can have a good, long look at it as soon as we're finished here. Take brooms. I want it spotless."

Almost two hours later, class was dismissed. The soldiers went to put up their equipment and occupy their own time until dinner—except, of course, for the two scapegraces. Shoka smiled and waved Taizu over. "Good work today. Go take a look at the house."

"Was it the party from Keido, husband? The ones we were expecting?" she asked.

He smiled. "Yes. Go look, see how they've set things up, make sure it's what you want. It's your house."

"Our house," she said, firm. She turned smartly and crossed the main courtyard to the front door to the front door, marveling at the wagons, carts, and carrying-frames that were in some cases still being unloaded. Some men that Taizu assumed were carters were assisting two of the fortress porters in setting up standing lamps against the coming night, that the unpacking might continue.

During the late summer and autumn, they'd all lived under canvas in the courtyard, uncomfortable but dry on the still-sound flagstones. Likewise the old foundations of the great house were sound, and by winter's coming, the roof to the house had been finished, as well as that of the main barracks. The lady and lord of Yinchao Fortress had moved into the house with all their servitors, carpenters, cooks, laundresses, and doormen alike, sleeping in the cavernous space beneath the bare joists that would hold the upper floor. After the first month, screens had been rigged to provide some measure of privacy to husband and wife, and to young serving women. In the barracks, the men crowded together, counting themselves fortunate to have a good roof overhead and two stoves. They were, in fact, warmer than the Warden of the South and his household in the huge, drafty space that was the house.

In breaks between winter's storms, loads of timber arrived, and gradually the skeletons of walls and two stairways grew. The upper floor was laid, and walls sprang up there also. The kitchen went in, a huge stove and two hearths built into the wall that was mountain rock and strong doors for the ancient cold storage rooms hewn into the stone. There was a well room, with a cunningly worked windlass to allow even a slight young maid to haul the sweet, chill water from the spring-fed depths, as well as the outlines of a receiving hall, a dining room, and quarters against the outer wall, with windows and snug shutters, for all those who served the Warden and his lady.

As the days grew longer and spring was more than just a hope, plasterers had come up from the village and made the skeletal walls a solid reality. For the past two weeks, Taizu and Shoka had slept on the bare floor of their own bedroom. Just having a space to themselves felt like the veriest luxury, even if their bed was still nothing more than a large pallet and the plaster still reeked for the first few days.

Now Taizu stepped into their home's entry hall, the new tiles currently protected by bedraggled straw mats. Men and women were arranging settees with cushions in the space beyond, where visitors would be received. The dining room was filled with crates and the ghostly shapes of furniture still protected in wrappings of rag and canvas. She could smell food cooking, and she turned to go up the stair that the staff would use, just wide enough for someone carrying a big basket of laundry.

The stairway came out at the end of a little hall. Here were the guest rooms, the study, the bath. And ahead was their room. No: a suite, Shoka called it. Then he had laughed, and said it was not much of a suite, being only two rooms, a bath, and a wardrobe. "It's larger than our cabin was," she had countered.

Now she stepped through the open door to see the space lighted with two tall lamps on stands. The polished floor was clothed with three beautiful rugs. There were two writing desks: she had wanted to learn to write, and now she had a desk of her own! A settee of rosewood was softened with cushions covered in fine wool woven in the patterns beloved by the local villagers, checks or wreaths of blocky flowers or interlocked rows of key motifs, and there were two footstools. Through one door she could see a beautiful, large bed with patterned quilts and a smaller lamp beside it, and through the other the clothing racks and chests, and the tiled bath with new water jars, basins, and a ceramic bath big enough to sit in.

She went to the outer wall, where the six tall windows were open to the cooling air. The view still enchanted her: north and west to the looming mountains, and the gleaming tiled roof of the Muigan Abbey, a day's march away. At the foot of their own pass, the village of Mon snuggled, its small lights blooming with the coming of evening.

"Boy!" snapped a sharp, shrill voice behind her. "How dare you trespass in your lord's rooms, sweaty and with dirty feet on the new rugs!"

Taizu froze and then turned. The thin old woman who had come up behind her stilled in her turn, and both stared in an appalled silence as they recognized each other.

"L-lady Taizu!" stammered Aoi, Lord Reidi's wife. She all but dropped the large, covered basket in her arms and bowed, hastily. "I did not recognize you! Forgive me, please!"

Taizu scowled, feeling unkempt and awkward. As master Shoka's wife, the soldiers and the servants who had lived by their sides for half a year treated her with respect, but no kind of awe. They might call her "m'lady" when they spoke to her, but that was not the same. Lady Aoi's stance, her voice, her expression showed the polish of position, of knowing that she was part of a chain of rulership that ran up to the Emperor himself in only a few steps. And that was not Taizu.

"You surprised me," she said, gruff. "There's nothing to forgive."

Lady Aoi straightened and looked at her sharply. Taizu's cheeks grew hot. It was so much easier to talk to soldiers.

"Well, we need to arrange things so that you don't drag that sweaty armor and those dusty boots in here," said Reidi's wife, brisk. "Your husband has a position to keep up."

Ladylike manners be damned. "You don't talk to me like that," growled Taizu, taking a step forward. Her hand was resting on the hilt of her sword, although she didn't remember putting it there.

Her guest's face crumpled, and she turned and scuttled to the door in a waft of silken skirts. For a moment she turned back. "You _demon!_ " she hissed, and was gone.

Saukendar found Taizu there, sitting on a ceramic footstool, still wearing her armor, staring at the basket of clean linen in the darkening room. "Lady Aoi wanted to go back down to Mon village tonight," he said. "Reidi talked her out of it. Our guest rooms, new as they are, are still more comfortable than a commandeered inn. What happened, wife?"

Taizu closed her eyes. She knew she was being a stubborn brat. "She startled me. And then she told me I couldn't come in here in armor. My own rooms! And I told her not to talk that way, and she called me a demon. I thought that would stop, Master Shoka.."

He pulled her to her feet, put his arms around her. "Just Shoka, Taizu. Yes, our own rooms. Look, I'm in armor too."

"But she wouldn't talk to you that way," muttered Taizu.

"No," he said. He sounded sad. "You know I wish I'd never started the demon business."

"You needed to."

"I thought so, back then." He turned her gently to face the windows. "Look at the sunset. Beautiful."

Red bars striped the sky, like banners caught in the wind. Birds were flying, graceful black strokes against the deepening blue of the sky. The snow was rosy against the darker bulk of the mountains. She felt her sore, tight heart ease just a little. "The weather will be fine tomorrow."

"Yes, it should be a beautiful day." She felt him rest his cheek on her hair. "Why not go down to the village for most of it? Even soldiers have a day off once in a while. You haven't been out of this place since last autumn. And in the meantime, I'll have Lun bring up some hot water, and we can try this very elaborate new bathroom."

"All right." Shoka was warm behind her. Sometimes, he seemed so warm that she thought she'd never be cold again.

* * * * *

The morning was chill, with a milky sky and tendrils of mist that burned off three hours after dawn. The Lord Saukendar ordered that Jian and Yandai should escort his wife to the village. Master Kozo, who looked after the accounts, served as translator for envoys from across the southern border, and was starting to teach Taizu to read and write, proposed that he should come along as well. Taizu was pleased: she liked Kozo, an older man with a respectful manner leavened with a sense of humor.

They rode; it was not a far walk, but Shoka said he would rather have them mounted. Taizu assumed this was a matter of safety, that they would be able to return in haste if needed. "Well," said Kozo, "There is also the matter that the lady of the territory should not be going afoot, and none of us is foolish enough to think you would ride in a palanquin. I can't abide the silly things myself, for that matter." He was mounted on a steady bay gelding, a sturdy but otherwise indifferent horse on the brink of age. The soldiers had decent mounts from the fortress stable, and Taizu had her beloved white-legged mare, whom she had decided to call Splash.

The little valleys were a riot of spring color. Petals from wild peach tree blossoms were blowing in the breeze, and iris, mustard flower, and checkered lilies formed streams of blooms against tender new green leaves. As they got close to the village, Yandai rode ahead. By the time the rest of the party arrived, he had arranged for a fenced bit of pasture for the horses. The man who owned the pasture smiled and nodded at them. Kozo waved the fellow over and gave him some small coins. He turned to go, but then hastily turned back to bow to Taizu." Thank you," she said, then busied herself with loosening Splash' s girth. The bowing still unnerved her. At least he hadn't thrown himself to the ground to kowtow.

"Ah, good," said Kozo. "The shops seem to be open for business. my lady. Let us see what they have."

Taizu was surprised at how busy the place was. There was a shoe shop, an apothecary, a shop selling salt and spices, a fabric shop, a potter who sold both her own homely storage vessels and finer goods from the heartland. A scribe offered letter-writing services and paper, brushes, and inks. An old woman pressed a bouquet of flowers on Taizu: she took it, then looked helplessly at Kozo. He smiled and shook his head. "I will carry it. That would be one of the duties of your maid, my lady, to carry shopping."

Taizu passed him the bouquet and turned away, scowling. A lady's maid. Reidi's wife had been muttering something about that at breakfast. A little Aoi, to be disapproving of Taizu's clothing choices and hair, and carry gossip. "Thank you," she said, a moment too late. A girl was looking at her, terrified, clutching an amulet on a ribbon around her neck. Taizu shifted her eyes to a display of dried fruit, her gut tight.

There were too many people around her. It was like Lungan all over again, but this was their own village. She had to get used to this. She could not allow herself to become a burden to Shoka and their household. Master Kozo was a scholar and her teacher: he should not be reduced to carrying her flowers. Even if she had never asked to have them. 

It was a good thing that she wasn't carrying her sword.

Kozo gave her a sharp look. "Why don't we find a quiet place to have some tea, my lady?"

"Yes," Taizu said, through gritted teeth. She made her jaw relax a bit. "That would be good."

"My lady, there's a shop we've used before," said Jian. "There: the Peaceful Leaf."

"Good sweets, too," added Yandai.

"Yes," Taizu said, again. She managed to make it sound like an ordinary person would say it, almost.

Jian led the way, parting the crowds easily: he was half a head taller than anyone else. The crowd murmured around them, making way. "M'lady," most of the people said, but also "Demon … Saukendar's demon … demon woman … ."

She held her head up but she had to scowl. Who would not, hearing words like that?

The sounds dropped away as they passed through the colorful curtains over the tea shop's doorway. It was quiet inside and dim after the bright daylight. Taizu could smell tea, but also herbs, flower petals, and food cooking. A small, stout man bustled up to them, bowing repeatedly. "Greetings, my lady, master scholar. Welcome, welcome to our house. Come this way, the best table, of course."

The table was out of the way and with its own window, its lower half curtained, the upper half open for air and light. There was also a small lamp, showing clearly the prettily folded napkins, china spoons, and clean, smooth new chopsticks. Taizu and Kozo sat down, while Jian and Yandai stood behind their chairs, very proper. "Where is the girl?" muttered the owner. "Huilin … Huilin!"

"Coming, master!" answered a young voice. A young woman in a pretty brocade jacket and dark trousers hurried up from the rear of the shop. She carried a graceful pottery vase, which she place on the table. "For the flowers, my lady," she said.

Kozo handed her the bouquet, looking pleased. The serving maid arranged the blossoms quickly and well, then moved the vase to the back of the table, near the wall, and bowed. "Good, good," said the host. "Now, shall I tell you our best teas and other dishes?"

"Yes," said Taizu. She was suddenly quite hungry.

"My lady, I recommend the jasmine rose black tea, or the white tea from Feiyan, or the golden needle tea. For savories, we have today flower pancakes with scallions, dry nuts, smoked tea eggs, and steamed pork buns. And for sweets: sesame biscuits, steamed sugar cake, red bean cake, sweet bean curd with dried fruits, and walnut cake with jujubes."

It sounded good, all of it. But so many decisions … . Master Kozo spoke after a moment. "Miss Huilin, which tea do you prefer? And which sweet is your favorite?"

The host frowned a little, but Huilin bowed with dignity. "My lady, master, I think the golden needle tea goes well with any of those dishes. I myself am partial to the sweet bean curd."

"I'll have those," said Taizu, impressed and relieved with the way the decision had been handled. "And the rest of you, whatever you like. Yandai, Jian, sit, please."

After a second, the guards did sit, although stiffly and clearly on their best manners. The three men agreed with the tea choice and requested the pancakes, eggs, and sesame biscuits. Master Kozo asked after fruit and was assured that the house still had a few mandarins in good shape. The host and the maid hurried off. Taizu relaxed in the quiet. A few other customers came in, but she could hear the host seating them in another room. "Better, my lady?" asked Kozo.

Taizu nodded. The maid Huilin brought in a tray loaded with teacups. a steaming teapot, plates, and dishes of sesame biscuits, smoked eggs, and peeled fruit segments, all attractively arranged, and set them on the table. She retreated, and Taizu accepted some fruit, an egg, and a biscuit from Master Kozo. "They shouldn't call me that," she said.

"The Lord Saukendar should speak with them," said Master Kozo.

"That won't help," said Taizu. Shoka had started this whole tale of her demonhood, and those who believed such things assumed she had him bewitched. Of course he would tell them to stop.

The tea should be ready by now, she thought. She hefted the heavy pot and swirled the leaves carefully, then poured them each a cup. It smelled wonderful, full-bodied and even sweet. She sipped her cup and nibbled a biscuit. It was delicious. She began to eat with pleasure, and Huilin brought out the rest of the treats, the sweet tofu steaming in little dishes for each of them, the squares of steamed walnut and sugar cake heaped on a handsome platter, and the crisp layered scallion pancakes in a lucky red dish with a golden rim.

After the girl had placed everything carefully on the table before them, she tucked her tray under one arm and bowed. "My lady?"

Taizu was surprised at this direct approach, and then thought how silly that was. Three years ago, Huilin would have been a superior being, working in a clean, prosperous place like this. "Yes, Huilin?"

"I couldn't help hearing, I wasn't meaning to listen. Everyone is very glad to have Lord Saukendar here, we know he will protect us. But about demons: the abbess at the nunnery is very wise, everyone says so. They send to her to ask difficult questions about curses, and bad luck, and that sort of thing. She has been there since my mother was born. Maybe if she were to see you, and then tell everyone … you see? They know her."

The nunnery, thought Taizu. The one where Master Shoka had meant to send her, at one point. She felt her brows knitting up, despite herself. Huilin, peering up cautiously to see how her bold approach was gong over, bowed even more deeply and started to back away. 

"N-no, it's fine," Taizu managed to say and looked at Master Kozo. He was so much better at this kind of thing. He hastily swallowed the last of his egg and blotted his lips and mustache. "That's not a bad idea, my lady," he said. "Consulting with the reverend abbess is the right sort of thing."

At this point, the host came by in search of his missing maid and frowning, ordered her back to work. Taizu looked after her, feeling a strange sense of guilt and regret. A long time ago, there had been other girls of her age, friends and cousins. Back in Hua, before the soldiers came.

* * * * *

Spring was well advanced when the little party arrived at the nunnery at Muigan, but up here on the shoulder of Huishaan, the Beautiful Pass, the air was still chilly in the shadows. Lord Saukendar, his wife, and their guard were met by a party of warrior nuns in divided skirts and quilted gambesons, heads shaved, spears on their shoulders. Behind them was an older woman in plain robes of undyed cloth who nodded and smiled. "Welcome, welcome, Lord Saukendar. Here is the guest hostel where you and your troop may spend the night. The Lady Taizu will come with me."

All this had been explained in the letters couriered back and forth over the past few weeks, but Taizu felt foolishly weak and lonely in advance of Shoka's departure. They had hardly spent a night apart since she first joined him at his cabin above Mon village. Shoka looked at her and shook his head. "I can't believe that you want to come here after turning me down so forcefully all those years ago," he said, half joking.

Of course that knit up her resolve again, and he'd probably meant it to do so. He was so tricky. "It's only a week," she said, firm.

"I hope this place is more comfortable than it looks," he grumbled, looking at the rustic lodge. In fact, it was a good-sized building, well-kept. He swung down from Jiro and then offered her his hand. She had no need of help to dismount, but she took his hand anyway and slid to the ground. He put one hand gently on her shoulder and bowed to touch his forehead to hers. "Behave yourself," he said. "Let's hope the old lady can do what she promised."

She nodded, afraid to speak for what her voice might show, then squeezed his hand and turned away. The rank of women warriors parted for her and then closed behind her. The older woman nodded and smiled, her face a maze of friendly creases topped with short-cropped greying hair. "I am Loka En, the guest mistress. I know that you are Lady Taizu. Be at ease. We have hosted many noble ladies here at the abbey."

And that was the problem right there. I am not a lady, thought Taizu. But this was not the wise abbess Zhuo Tsin. One whose duties were to greet and see to the housing of guests need not be wise about anything but basic human needs. Together, they walked up the steep path to the abbey.

The nunnery was a cluster of low, homey buildings in aged cedarwood and natural stone, surrounded by gardens both ornamental and practical. Evening was closing in, and women and girls were finishing up work in the gardens. Loka En brought Taizu to a long building that was divided up inside into a hallway with eight small rooms arrayed four to a side, interrupted on one side by a small doorway and with another doorway at the end. "This is the room we have prepared for you," said the nun. "Presently you will hear the bell for dinner. The refectory is through the door at the end of the hall. The privy is through this door here. Please make yourself at home."

The room was small and plain, but comfortable. There was a narrow, low bed with warm quilts, a small desk, a clothes chest on which Taizu dropped her saddlebags, a small ceramic stove, a little table by the bed, and a single standing lamp. The shutters of the one window were opened, showing a garden, the mountains, and a slice of darkening sky. Taizu slowly took off her coat. The stove's warmth was fighting with the cool air flowing in the window. There was a writing kit in the desk, a small stack of paper, and a book. She opened it, but she could only recognize a few of the beautifully written characters. Prayers, maybe.

What was she going to do here? She stood at the window, stretching her shoulders and legs, brooding, until the bell tolled and she could walk out.

The refectory was filled with perhaps thirty women and a dozen girls of varying ages, from two shy lasses of eight or nine to a pair of tall girls that likely had their adult height but were still coltish about the arms and legs. They were all dressed in some version of Loka En's homespun robes, and although Taizu's own clothing was very simple and in plain shades of grey and dark blue, she felt overdressed for the first time in her life. The long, plain tables were laid with coarse napkins, tea cups, bowls, and chopsticks, and benches were placed along the sides, ready for the meal.

Loka En gestured her to a small table, around which stood several other older women. One larger chair stood at the head of the table. "We await the arrival of the abbess," said Loka En, her voice soft. "After she greets us and we sit, the first part of the meal will be in silence. Then the abbess will invite us to converse, and at the end of the meal, she will introduce you."

As the guest mistress was introducing the other women at the table—the names went past Taizu, finding no place in her memory—a tall, gaunt old woman appeared in the doorway. Everyone bowed, including Taizu. "The reverend Zhuo Tsin," murmured Loka En.

Zhuo Tsin proceeded to her chair. Taizo noticed that her face was lined by laughter as much as by concern, and that in addition to her robes, she wore a soft, dark goats' hair shawl against the chill. The old woman bowed, and all the women and girls bowed to her in response.

"Good evening, my sisters and daughters, and our honored guest." said Zhuo Tsin. Her voice was the husk of a resonant alto, thinned and roughened with time. "Let us reflect upon what we are about to receive. Wisely reflecting, we use this food not for light enjoyment, not for pleasure, not for fattening, not for beautification, but only for the maintenance and nourishment of our earthly bodies, for keeping them healthy so that they may serve the life of the spirit. Thinking thus, we allay hunger without overeating, so that we may continue to live blamelessly and at ease. Continue to reflect upon these words as we begin our meal."

The abbess sat slowly down in her place after her speaking this invocation. Most of the others did so as well, save for a small number, one from each table, who crossed the room to a hatch cut into one wall and received bowls and platters of food. When their table's server arrived back, Taizu saw there was a large bowl of rice, a pot of tea, a dish of vegetables with shredded bean curd skin, and a cold dish of spring greens in mild vinegar. The women passed the bowls of food, each filling her bowl with modest portions from all the dishes.

The quality of the food was more than adequate. Taizu could have eaten a great deal more, but Zhuo Tsin's words were clear: they were eating only enough to maintain their bodies. Nevertheless, when the other women had eaten their meal, the server lifted the dish of rice and held it out to Taizu. She felt all eyes were upon her. Confused and embarrassed, she looked over at the abbess. Zhuo Tsin smiled and nodded, so Taizu took another helping of rice. As she finished the bowlful, the abbess spoke again. "Now that we have given our meal its due reflection, we may converse."

"Thank you, reverend abbess," murmured Taizu. Master Kozo had drilled her in the polite forms of address for this visit, but her cheeks were still burning. The old woman smiled again, her eyes warm.

"Young women and girls have greater appetites than we old crones," she said. "We live a simple life of restraint here, but the body has its needs. All sisters, after strenuous work in the garden, on the mountain paths, or in the training yard, receive a small extra meal to sustain their bodies after their work. You are confining your gaze, which is appropriate, but thus you did not see that the young ones around the room also received an extra bowl of rice. You need not see this as undue attention to a noble guest."

Taizu let the uneasy breath she had not realized she was holding. "Thank you for telling me, reverend abbess."

"You are from the north, are you not?" asked one of the elders. She had pursed, frowning mouth, but her eyes were mild behind steel-frame spectacles tied around her head with a black ribbon. "I hear that in your voice."

"Yes, reverend sister," said Taizu. "From Hua."

A friendly, polite conversation ensued, mainly about where each sister had been born and what she recalled of her native speech and her home's quaint customs. Taizu was glad of Kozo's instruction: she did not mention the soldiers and what had happened under Gita's rule, and the talk remained pleasant.

After a time, Zhuo Tsin rose again. The murmur of conversation around the room sputtered and died. "Come, my sisters, my daughters," she said. "We will go to the temple with our guest the Lady Taizu, wife of our protector, Lord Saukendar, Warden of the South."

Everyone rose, most looking at looking at Taizu with renewed interest, and followed the abbess as she walked out through a door on the far side of the room. Only the designated table servers remained, presumably to clear the meal and perhaps assist in washing up. The abbess led her party through a small garden, lit by a pair of standing lamps, and into another building. It was all one room, the floor covered with grass matting. At the front was an altar to the gods, backed with a screen painted with the clouds and birds of Heaven. Near the back of the room was a row of flat cushions, their fabric showing the intricate local checkered weave in all the shades of grey and brown that natural sheeps' wool could be.

By glance and gesture the elders directed Taizu with them to the cushions. The younger women and girls filed in, and most of them knelt in rows. One or two took a less rigorous seated posture instead. The elders knelt or sat: there was no pattern that Taizu could detect. She knelt, since it seemed that was what most of the other women near her age were doing.

Zhuo Tsin said, "We will chant and meditate on the scroll of the Eight Jeweled Gates."

All Taizu knew of formal religion was that monks and nuns would memorize long writings and chant them. She bowed her head and listened to the murmuring voices. It was an old form of the language, and she did not know all the words that were spoken. Neither did some of the young girls: several times, a child stumbled in her chant, and then a stern-looking elder nun with a clear, penetrating voice would say the line again. The girl would repeat it after her before the whole room again joined in with the next line. Taizu began to nod off, catching herself before she actually sank into slumber. Finally, all of them bowed where they sat or knelt, swayed upright again, and clapped three times. Taizu followed as best she could; her training with Shoka served her well in this.

Zhuo Tsin rose slowly and stiffly to her feet. "A peaceful night and a restoring rest to all of you, my sisters, my daughters, our honored guest." She walked slowly from the room. The others followed, their movements more casual now. There was even some hushed conversation. In the lamp-lit garden, they separated into groups and wandered off down small paths Taizu had not seen clearly when they went through it earlier. "Come with me, my lady," Loka En murmured.

They walked down paths that led to the guest house. Loka En pointed out Taizu's room again, suggested that she might want to write her thoughts on the paper provided, and bade her goodnight, leaving Taizu on her own.

The building seemed empty. In the room, another small lamp had been lit on Taizu's desk, and the ink dish had been filled. She left the room and walked silently up and down the hall, peering into the half-open doors of the other guest rooms. No one else was there. The whole building breathed its emptiness, peaceful and hollow.

Back in her room, Taizu sat down at the desk. She, too, was empty. Slowly she took a piece of paper and moistened one of the brushes. _I am alone,_ she wrote, carefully, because she respected Master Kozo's teaching. She did not know enough characters to say anything more that made sense, so she rinsed the brush in the water pot and placed it carefully across the ink dish to dry. After blowing out the little lamp, she went to look out the window. The spring night was growing cold, and the young moon was sinking below the shoulders of the mountains, a thin, icy crescent.

She closed the shutters and shivered as she undressed by the light of the standing lamp. In her undertunic and drawers, she blew out the big lamp and crept into bed, pulling the cedar-scented quilts almost over her head, shutting out the empty silence. It had been a long time since she had slept without Shoka beside her, and during the winter past, they had often been surrounding by the sounds of their people in the echoing great hall: yawns, sighs, snores, the whisper of a shifting quilt as someone turned over. She was chilled and lonely, and sleep was welcome when it finally came.

A deep-toned bell woke her the next morning. She changed into fresh underclothes and donned her somber trousers, tunic, and jacket. She broke her fast with the nuns in the chill refectory, where they were served steaming salted rice porridge with eggs and chopped nuts. Then Loka En took her to a long, light room where nuns were painting and writing scrolls. The two little girls she had noticed the night before were learning basic characters, writing on slates with chalk. The nun who had corrected the chanting was acting as teacher. Taizu was given her own desk by the window, a blank scroll and some brushes, ink, and pigments.

She looked at it all with dismay. She had never tried to paint animals or people or scenery, and as for writing, she should have been given a slate and some chalk instead of these fine brushes. Finally she took a brush and tried to paint Jiro. It was a terrible picture: one could only just guess that it was a four-legged animal. She added a terrible ox, distinguished at least by its horns, and finally, nostalgically, a pig. She labeled them: _My man's horse. Ox. Pig._. She was certain that she had made mistakes with "pig," which had seven strokes.

The teacher-nun came over to look at her work. Her eyes widened and she look as though she might shout at Taizu. Then she bit off a gruff chuckle. "My lady, that is … extraordinary."

Taizu hung her head. "Elder sister, I have never learned painting. And my husband's advisor only started teaching me writing two months ago."

The nun frowned in thought, and then her face cleared. "Would it be an insult for you to learn a bit of painting with Gyo En, here at the next desk? Or would you rather work at characters with Jie and Susu, over there?"

"Painting," said Taizu, relieved. The teacher nodded and then went back to work with the little girls. The thin young woman at the next desk gave Taizu a friendly smile and passed her a sheet of coarse paper, then pushed aside the lovely scroll she had been working on and took a piece of paper herself.

"We will paint some iris," said Gyo En. "They are easy to depict. Take a bit of the yellow with one brush, then some blue with another, and mix them together on that stone slab. There. That is a good shade of green, you see?" 

By the time the chime rang for luncheon, Taizu had produced a painting that was at least recognizable as a stem of iris blossoms. The brush strokes were not all that different from writing, but there was no sample character to follow: one had to use the mind's eye, her new instructor told her. She now had a profound respect for Gyo En, but her neck and back ached. She wanted to run, to do sword drills, to shout, but instead she followed the artist to the refectory, walking decorously. She was allowed to sit with Gyo En and several other young nuns for the meal, and during the conversation period that followed the rice and diced chicken with vegetables, she had another pleasant but aimless conversation about her beginnings in Hua.

The afternoon was much the same, except that instead of painting, she was taught flower arranging. At one point she heard something that sounded like the shouts and grunts of weapons practice, but she could not see anything out the windows but sky. Embarrassed, she turned back to the unfortunate stems of mustard she was attempting to place artistically in a pretty celadon vase. Too bad they would not stay where she put them, the way her brush strokes had that morning.

As she tried to focus on her work, distracted by a growing headache, she was dimly aware of some coming and going and murmured conversation behind her. At last, Jyu En, who had been supervising the flower art, took the green vase of drooping mustard blossom from her. "The reverend Zhuo Tsin wishes to speak with you, my lady."

As Taizu followed an earnest young novice to the abbess' study, she felt as she imagined the young recruits must feel, if they had to go speak with Lord Saukendar. Perhaps the abbess wanted her to leave? But Shoka and the troop must be back at the fortress by now.

Zhuo Tsin was seated in a cushioned chair at her desk. Two of the walls of the study were covered with book- and scroll-cases, at least five times as many as Master Kozo had. Another chair was placed by the window, where the daylight would show the abbess the face of her visitor. "Sit, please, lady," said Zhuo Tsin.

Taizu's brows were pulling into a frown again, but she sat. The abbess looked at her with interest. "Say what you are thinking," she said. "Be truthful."

Taizu gaped at her, then burst out: "I'm not a lady, reverend abbess! And I am not a demon! I am only myself!"

The abbess nodded, as though she were unsurprised by this. "My sisters are wise, perceptive women, and we discussed Lord Saukendar's letters before we agreed that a visit with us might be helpful. We were far from certain whether you would enjoy pursuits such as painting, calligraphy, and flower-arranging, but if you had some knowledge of what noblewomen choose to do when they have time for their own pursuits, you might have been insulted by being given homelier tasks. Tell me, please, how you would prefer to spend your days with us. My sisters and daughters do many other things. We learn to chant prayers and histories. We learn to control our minds. We have our gardens, both for contemplation and for food. We clean the temple and the other buildings. We cook and clean the kitchen. We tend our chickens. We maintain the road through the pass, which is hard labor at this time of year, after the winter storms. And some of our nuns pursue unarmed martial arts, as well as the staff and the spear."

It all sounded so much better than what Taizu had been doing that she smiled for a moment. "I know how to tend vegetables and chickens. I am not afraid of hard work. And I know the ways of the sword and the bow, but the staff and the rest, I would like to learn."

The abbess slapped her desk top lightly, as though sealing a letter. "Well, then, tomorrow, is another day, and it will be quite different. We will bring you a novice's work gear, which you will wear for much of your day. And we will work you, one way or another." She smiled at Taizu. "You look as though a burden has been lifted. That is good. Will you tell me one more thing? What did you hope for, when you came here? What were we to do for you?"

Taizu dropped her eyes. "Reverend abbess, I hoped that somehow, you could cause people to stop calling me a demon."

Zhuo Tsin nodded, her eyes turned inward, thinking. "Lady Taizu, I will give your husband a pronouncement, when he comes to fetch you, saying that I have observed and examined you quite thoroughly, and that you are no demon. I will teach you a brief holy chant to murmur at shrines, which people assume that a demon would be unable speak for fear of scorching its lips. But people's minds are their own, whatever a tyrant may imagine, and your lord husband is too wise to think he may force them to think otherwise. He was the one who first led them to think this, was he not?"

"Yes," said Taizu, unhappy. "He thought he needed to do it. But it's not true!"

"It is one of the few ways that a man—or woman—may change the thoughts of others: not by force, but by guile, by persuasion, by the power of story. All know legends of heroes and demons. In place of a great army and wise generals to command, which he did not have, the Lord Saukendar called on the power of legend. He had a role himself in this story, did he not? He was the hero. Did he enjoy this role?"

Taizu thought of Shoka's worry, dismay, and disgust when people seemed inclined to worship him mindlessly. "Not really, holy mother. But he is the best liar I know, and he could work with being the hero. I'm just a pig-girl who has learned to swing a sword. I can't think that way."

"To that, I have two answers," said Zhuo Tsin. "First, I have heard stories of how, on your own, you played the demon so well that men fled from you, leaving the way clear for your lord and yourself to finish the deadly deeds that needed doing. Second, I have already told you that here, we learn how to control our minds. You will see what I mean, after you have worked your body tomorrow. Perhaps you will discover that legends have their own truth." She smiled and lifted one brow, looking almost as roguish as Shoka. "Now it is dinner time. Be at ease. I am firm in my belief that with our guidance, you will help yourself to achieve all you wished."

That night, Taizu slept more easily. After the next morning's breakfast, clad in her borrowed homespun work habit, she walked up the mountain road with a party of other young women. They had heavy quilted work gauntlets, shovels, and rakes, and there were branches and small boulders to remove. The grizzled, sturdy nun who supervised them made detailed notes about the locations of two boulders too large to be removed by an energetic party of young women. After the larger debris was cleared and any potholes filled, they raked the way smooth. After they had cleared a quarter of a league, they returned to the nunnery, where they were served a sustaining snack of hot broth with beaten egg.

After lunch, Taizu and two novices learned basic staff drills. Both girls were a couple of years younger than Taizu, but the seriousness with which they were taking their training suited her own feelings exactly. After two hours, they were sent to watch a group of older students do spear drills. 

The young nuns were admirable in their attention to the instructor: Shoka would approve, she thought. One girl in particular was strong, fast—and very impatient. She was asked to sit out twice for attacking too vigorously in sparring matches. "That's Shion," whispered one of the staff students. "She broke three of Eri's fingers once." Taizu frowned, wondering what Shoka would do with such a pupil. Perhaps they might take her into their own service? She could not guess what her husband would say to the idea, but it seemed a shame to leave her here, where she would be the despair of her teachers and perhaps even cast out for lack of discipline.

There was an hour left before dinner when Taizu was sent to a little building that seemed to be a shrine. It had eight sides, each with a window open the the soft air, which promised rain by nightfall. "I am Li En," said the small, stocky woman who knelt in the center of the small space. "I understand that you have a problem, that some call you 'demon.'"

"Yes," said Taizu.

"Please, sit," said Li En, gesturing to a mat before her. "What makes that so terrible for you?"

"It's not true!"

"But it is just a word. How does it affect you when they say it?"

Taizu's body, which had been relaxing pleasantly from the workouts it had had that day, began to tense up. "I get angry."

"What happens to your breathing, your back, your jaw?"

That needed thought. "My breath comes short and fast. My back is stiff. My jaw is clenched."

"I have heard you are an archer," said Li En. "Could you make a difficult shot in that condition?"

It was as though a door had opened in Taizu's head. "No, I could not!"

The nun nodded. "Who causes those things to happen to you, so that you lose your center?"

"The people who insult me," said Taizu, and her voice was not patient.

"Really, my lady? They come up to you, and with their hands they stiffen your spine, press on your belly where you breathe, hold your jaw tight?"

"Of course not!"

"So again, I ask you, who causes you to lose your center?"

Taizu's lips parted, but no sound came out. At last she whispered, "I do it. With my anger, my shame, I do it."

"Now you have learned a great truth," said the teacher. "Can those who see you at that time observe your anger and shame?"

"Yes," said Taizu, low. "I frown. I … I make the face of an angry demon."

Li En nodded again, her face gentle. "We affect those around us, but in the end, their feelings are theirs, and yours are your own. Now let us think about something else. I understand that you are a good rider and know about horses. What would you do if someone brought you a young colt who has not been trained? He is angry and frightened and could easily injure you. How would you approach him? What would be your feelings? Can you show me that face, my lady?"

Taizu thought about that. She remembered the horses at the old judge's estate, which they had passed on the way back to Mon. The judge did not have any good horses to sell at that time, but there was a young filly whom Shoka had asked the judge to hold for Taizu. She thought of the tentative nature of that young mare, not yet two years old: how she shook her head, showed the whites of her eyes, and backed away from Taizu. And how she had made herself still and spoken gentle nonsense to soothe the young creature.

Li En's voice was hushed. "Can you feel what your face is doing, my lady? Do you feel the softness of your spine and neck, the gentle breaths in your belly?"

"Yes, but … ?"

"Being still and soft is a skill. It can be practiced. And I will teach you how."

That night, with the rain falling softly outside her shutters, Taizu slept as she had not slept since she was a tiny child, thoughtlessly and well. She woke in the morning clear-eyed and hungry and filled with anticipation.

The rest of the week rushed by as though winged. She gained understanding of the basics of the staff work, tended the speckled chickens, polished the wooden floors of the temple, weeded the garden, tried the spear, washed pots, and spent time each afternoon with Li En, gentling the wild horse that was her own mind.

Taizu ate her last breakfast with the nuns the morning after Shoka and his troop were reported to have arrived safely at the guest hostel. When the meal was over, Zhuo Tsin invited everyone to delay their morning tasks for a short while to make their farewells, if they wished. To Taizu's surprise, some of them had gifts for her. Gyo En had created a scroll for her, showing a beautiful horse at the top and some splendid spotted pigs at the bottom, framing a short poem about the joys of a simple life. The martial arts mistress gave her a polished wooden staff for her own. And Li En came and took both her hands. Squeezing them, she said, "You will return, next spring. A good student should undertake a retreat regularly. I will await you with pleased anticipation."

Zhuo Tsin looked over and smiled. "Yes, my lady, please do. It will do the people good to think that their lady is so devout."

At last the spear nuns came to escort her down the path to the road before the hostel. When Shoka saw her, he tossed Jiro's reins to Captain Chun and strode up to her at a pace that was almost a run. "I've missed you so much," he said, his voice soft and hoarse. "You look well."

"M'lord," said Loka En. "Here is the document that the reverend abbess promised." It was rolled and tied with colorful threads, a stamped wax seal dangling from them. 

Shoka took it and tucked it into his saddlebag. "Please thank her for me, sister," he said. Then he led Splash over himself and held her while Taizu mounted. One of the men took charge of the new staff, placing it in the straps on his saddle that might normally hold a spear or a banner pole.

"Well, let's go home," said Shoka, and they took off as quickly as the steep road permitted.

When the going became easier, Shoka told her, "I have some news for you. Two mornings after we returned from the abbey, a young woman came to the gate, seeking to work for you. Kozo recalled that she had waited on you at a tea house in the town."

"Oh," said Taizu, surprised. "Yes. She is called Huilin."

"That was the name. Kozo thought we might give her a chance to show what she could do. She has been working in the kitchen, but cook says she is too clever by half to stay there for long. Kozo says that she can read and write, and I found her well spoken."

"She can arrange flowers, too," said Taizu, thinking of her sad little bouquet back at the abbey. "Kozo said I should have a lady's maid. Might she try that?"

"Surely that is your decision, wife."

He was smiling. She nodded once, firmly. "So she shall." She remembered another young woman, then, the little rebel in the abbey's training yard. "M—Shoka?"

"Taizu?"

"Would we ever take in a young woman to train at weapons?"

"I know you," he said, after a moment. "You have someone in mind."

"One of the girls training in martial arts at the abbey. She is too strong, too fast for the others, and she gets angry. Young men would be able to keep up with her."

He was silent as they rode along. "This wants more thought. I don't object to your having other companions, wife. But Huilin will sleep in the little room on the upper floor, down the hall from our quarters. A recruit for the fortress garrison should sleep in the barracks. You see the problem."

"Yes," she said. It was a fair point.

"We'll think it through," he said. "It's worth a thought. Ladies have had women bodyguards in Chiyaden before."

She could be content with that. She smiled, her eyes on Splash's shoulders, glad to be riding again, glad to be with Shoka.

At the end of the journey, while they were passing their own rice fields, several of the workers looked up to wave and bow. But one young man stood frozen, half crouched in the knee-deep water of the paddy. His lips formed the word "demon."

Taizu took a breath, hearing Li En's words: _Rest your thought on your breath wherever you feel it most: your nostrils, your throat, or your belly … ._. She felt her face soften, and she looked at him she would a frightened young creature, gently but firmly, honestly, and with compassion, meeting his eyes. She could feel that her brows were relaxed, her mouth even curved a little upward, as though her teacher were with her.

The young man blinked and straightened, his expression surprised and open. Then he bowed deeply.

"Well, wife," said Shoka, and his voice was pleased. "It seems they told you something of great use while you were there."

Taizu looked at him and nodded, her real self, no pretenses. "They showed me the truth inside our legend," she said.

**Author's Note:**

> The abbess' mealtime invocation is from [Buddhism: What's Hot Now: Meal Chants](http://buddhism-site.blogspot.com/2012/03/buddhism-whats-hot-now-meal-chants.html?m=1).


End file.
